T: Amazing Husband ST: Three-year-old Wonder Prof. G: Advisor I Prof. C: Advisor II Julie: Stylish Sister Rob: Awesome Brother Belle: Our Cat Bill: Grumbling BIL Rita: Uncomplicated SIL SMU: Smallish Midwestern University Doctoral University: where I got my Ph.D.
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Quote of the Day
Thursday, September 08, 2005
ST came into our room at around 4:00am, tapped me on the shoulder and held his arms up to be pulled into our bed. I pulled him up and kissed him, and then he snuggled up next to me, head sinking into the pillow and thumb firmly in his mouth. Within seconds he was sleeping again. I looked over at T, who awoke when he heard ST come into the room. T was smiling -- he gave ST a kiss on the forehead and then the three of us fell asleep together.
T got up at around 5:30am to go for a run, and so when my eyes fluttered open at 7:00am, it was just me and ST in the bed, ST sprawled across T's side of the bed in his basketball pajamas. I just stared at him, such a gorgeous boy, and thought back to earlier that morning when my little family was soft and warm under the quilt of our bed. What a lovely moment it was -- how lucky I am to have them.
ST was still sleeping soundly when I got up to take a shower and T was getting dressed for work. An immense sadness washed over me as I stood in the shower and thought of the months to come: September would be a flurry of activity preparing cover letters, writing samples, teaching portolio information, and hopefully organizing interviews. October will be a month of preparation for my trip to Berlin and could also potentially be a time for interviews (phone or otherwise). November will be, for me, the cruelest month, since I will spend it in a different country, away from my husband and son, finishing research for the dissertation. It is not until December that there's a chance for some down time this year. So little time for sleeping in, for snuggling in bed with my two favorite people in the world; so little time for thinking uncluttered thoughts.
I expressed my sadness to T, and he just smiled at me. "I know you're worried about being away from us a lot these next few months, but don't be. We want you to do this. You're doing all of this for us." I could not ask for a kinder man for a husband. Still, the thought of being away so much makes my heart ache and sends tears to my already sore eyes.
My melancholy was not aided this morning by my trip to ST's daycare to drop him off. ST walked in, excited to be there, and then suddenly decided that he wanted to stay home with me. "I want to come with you, Mom," he pleaded, crying. I could understand why: his usually calm daycare was a madhouse this morning, with a new baby starting today and a "problem child" sitting in the rocker with ST's favorite carer. ("Problem child" is a six-month-old baby who was rejected by another home day care because he's very, very, very needy and cries all the time; I'm not sure if ST's daycarers will want to keep this baby there, either.) ST didn't get the hug he usually gets from his favorite carer, didn't get the tickles, and didn't get to go pick out his cup for the day. ST is a lot like his mother in that he craves routine, and this morning's madness did not sit well with him (or with me).
And then, of course, there was nothing but sad news on the radio as I drove home from the daycare, tales of hurricane survivors whose livelihood is all but lost, more stories of government ineffectiveness, and details about yet another government investigation into why this is all going so horribly.
I'm headed for campus this morning. I have to return a slew of library books and pick up a bunch more, and I have to finalize my letters of recommendation with Prof. G. (i.e., determine who will write the third letter, unless Prof. G. has already taken care of that, which is very possible). Then I have a meeting with a new faculty member who studies in the same area I do, and by most accounts he is a rather unpleasant man. I will try to keep an open mind. I will try to have a more positive afternoon, and work towards 4:30pm, when I can pick up ST, take him home, and read books about firefighters and police officers while eating our after-daycare snack. Those after-daycare moments are so lovely that they just might carry me through the day; indeed, they might have to carry me through these next few months.